


Her Best of Enemies

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, Hatchetfield − Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Halloween Costumes, High School, Hook-Up, Making Out, Party, Past Becky/Tom, Possibly Unrequited Love, Vaginal Fingering, Yearning, but like kinda not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26642185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Emma sat stiffly on the other side of the bench. They had never been friends. Becky had not particularly sought her out, she had to admit, but only because Emma had always been unreasonably antagonistic in the first place. Avoiding conflict was better than deepening it and she had always let Emma seethe on her own without trying to fan the flame. Even now, she had no wish for any argument. Especially now.A reimagining Becky’s senior year if she had let Emma corrupt her a little instead of Stanley. Their first encounter.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Emma Perkins
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17





	Her Best of Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> In the process of writing this, initially for funsies, I discovered that I in fact totally ship it lol. Forgive me for the amount of Barneston longing, they’re still my main hoe, but if you have any idea for more Barkins fics, let me know on my tumblr musicalsandfluff. 
> 
> For those of you who don’t read smut, you can stop at the moment they enter the room and maybe ctrl+F to find "She checked the time on her flip phone" which is directly after the smut stops.

Even in the crowd of all her friends, Becky was lonely as ever as she made her slow way outside to the garden. Everyone had a reason to stop her, of course, to compliment her costume or the makeup she had sneakily put in just after arriving to the party and would have to rub off before leaving, to ask how she was doing or worse, if she had news of Tom. Even an ocean away, there was no pulling them apart in people’s minds. She wondered if that bothered her. For sure, she loathed to think of him on a war field, to be without news from him for weeks at a time now, but the memories of his embrace were what kept her smiling day after day of waiting for him to come back. At least the other students of Hatchetfield High meant well, she knew, when they enquired about him. A reminder that Tom was not completely forgotten the moment he had shipped out. She did not feel any less lonely.

The house was fancy and obscenely big, with a large garden at the back she found refuge in and sat on a bench to look up at the chilly evening sky of this October 31st. It was always the rich kids who threw the parties, she knew. At least this had the advantage of her parents allowing her this one night out. She was a senior now, she had insisted, but some causes were lost in advance and the curfew was to be embarrassingly early. How pathetic to have come for a short couple of hours, she thought, if she was to spend them in yearning solitude in the garden.

"Hey baby," some guy said, startling her from her thoughts as he sat next to her and handed her a red cup full of what smelled like beer − or was that him? "Miss me already?"

She had never met him before but snorted and took the cup. What was it they had learned in health class, never accept a drink when you haven’t seen it poured from a bottle opened just for you? She didn’t know if she always believed that much caution necessary, but she knew she would not take the chance from a stranger. He scooted close and looked at her up and down.

"The name’s Stan," he said and his fingers grazed against her forearm. Her skin prickled. "What’s a cutie like you doing out here on her own?"

She had never seen him at school − she would have remembered, and also he looked a tad too old for high school. His head was shaven and she could see tattoos covering the left side of it, part of his neck and likely down his shoulder, but more than any ink it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were very light blue and pierced right through her, like he could see well underneath that silly nurse costume she had borrowed for the day. Large, bitter dark pupils telling her what he thought of it. She gulped.

"Oh, _there_ you are," someone cried out loudly behind them. Emma Perkins appeared from heaven to throw daggers at Stan. "Hey, fuck off, alright? Me and Rebecca haven’t caught up in ages."

Stan only threw Becky a glance, as if pondering whether she was worth standing up for. Evidently deciding on a negative, he walked away without another word. She didn’t know whether she was disappointed. Some company might have been nice, but she still had someone else by her side, didn’t she? Emma sat and grabbed the cup from her hands to pour its content onto the ground with an indignant huff. It seeped into cold dirt, a wet patch under their feet. Stan had already moved onto another girl back near the garden door where the smokers had gathered, but Emma glared at him so fiercely he went all the way inside.

"What a fucking creep," she said. "Here, take mine."

"Thanks."

Becky took the cup Emma handed her, half empty. The irony dawned on her of how implicitly she trusted the content of it, even though Emma had always held an inexplicable grudge against her, and she smirked as she chugged down a large sip of it. Coke mixed with something, perhaps rum. She knew very little about liquor, as she was still way underage to drink. Becky had always been so terribly good at being nice and obedient. A little snippet of naughtiness here and then could not hurt, she thought.

Emma sat stiffly on the other side of the bench. There was a packed row of flower bushes between them and the house and the lights inside made a funny spooky pattern against the grass before them. How very Halloween. It was a better distraction to Becky than the girl at her side, anyways. They had never been friends. Becky had not particularly sought her out, she had to admit, but only because Emma had always been unreasonably antagonistic in the first place. Avoiding conflict was better than deepening it and she had always let Emma seethe on her own without trying to fan the flame. Even now, she had no wish for any argument. Especially now. She drank another large sip of the mixture, passable as it was.

"I didn’t think you drank alcohol," Emma said, observing her.

Becky huffed.

"You shoved this in my hands. What else am I to do with it?"

She was in no mood to be made fun of either and simply downed the rest of the drink, sighing with unrestrained longing before she could stop herself. She had used to like parties because of how forbidden they were, but even with her parents’ rare permission tonight and the promise to be a good girl, she was being dull and boring out here on her own. Not exactly on her own, she corrected herself. Emma was here, still staring for no good reason. She was dressed as a pirate, her hair down over her shoulders, a sword dangling at her hip, pistols on the other, a plush parrot perched up her shoulder. It only seemed fitting for her to be drinking rum, though the cup was empty now. Perhaps it was better this way ; a proper nurse would have snatched liquor from the hands of a junior and sent her to bed right at home. Becky did not want her gone, not quite yet.

"Want a smoke?" Emma offered out of the blue. "Sam scored us weed."

"Sure," Becky said without thinking. _What kind of a nurse is that_ , she wondered.

Emma smirked as if this had been a test all along, but still produced a little box from one of her many pockets out of which she pulled out a joint already made and a lighter.

"I didn’t think you smoked, either."

Becky didn’t, she never had.

"I don’t think you know much about me, Emma."

 _I don’t think I know much about myself anymore either_. Emma lit up the joint and, after a first short drag from it which made her smile dazingly, she handed it to Becky. She thought she could do this, that at the very least the gesture was uncomplicated, but as soon as the blunt touched her lips and she inhaled, the smoke was bitter in her mouth and she coughed a little. Emma snorted.

"Yeah, that sounds accurate. Swallow the smoke, or you’ll burn yourself for nothing."

Becky did as asked and the smoke burned deliciously down her throat as she passed the joint back to Emma. First nothing but a slight itch, but the effect weighed on her like a soft blanket of nothingness and she felt suddenly very light. She breathed a few deeper, slower breaths but the taste wouldn’t leave.

"So," Emma said. She pulled up a leg on the bench, leaning back comfortably. "You’re out here gloomy on your own, pining for your soldier boyfriend?"

She was sneering in victory, as if Becky’s love was an item of ridicule in itself. As if how she felt for Tom wasn’t the one thing that kept her upright as she worried herself sick for him.

"Ex-boyfriend," Becky said despite herself, despite how much she wished she had pleaded Tom to reconsider. "We broke up before he left. We didn’t want to handle long distance."

She would have waited for it as diligently as he would have let her. She would have been the perfect girlfriend, they would have stood the test of time if only Tom had allowed them a chance. He wanted her to be carefree in his absence, to enjoy her senior year to the fullest. If that was permission, god forbid encouragement for her to be with others, he had not said, but what else could he have meant by it?

"Oh. Well, you can always get your hands on him again when he comes back." She took a long drag from the joint and blew out the smoke very softly into the night air, a white strip all the brighter for her warm breath on an already cold October night. "If he comes back."

Becky’s heart sank in her chest and her head snapped to Emma as she tried to not look as angry as she felt.

"Jeez, yeah. I’ll get back together with the love of my life _if_ he doesn’t fricking die at war. That’s right, Emma."

Emma had the grace of looking sheepish and she only silently passed her back the blunt. This time, Becky pulled much more fiercely on it, inhaling too deep so that the smoke bit at her lungs where she kept it until the anger passed before sighing it out in a messy cloud around her face. She did feel more relaxed after every puff. Maybe there was some truth to health class after all.

"I’m sorry," Emma muttered after some time and she sounded just contrite enough for Becky to be filled with compassion.

"No, _I’m_ sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped, I… I miss him, that’s all."

She passed back the blunt for the last time. She didn’t think it was really her thing, though she wasn’t so sure what her thing was anymore.

"Yeah, you guys were like joined at the hip or something. It was gross as fuck."

Becky sighed and leaned back too to better look at the night sky. It was cloudy, mostly, but intermittently the moon peeked through.

"Love is not gross at all, it’s beautiful and fulfilling and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend your time with the one you love. I don’t know why you always have to hate everything that’s good in the world."

This wasn’t to Emma’s liking and she made no pretense otherwise. Her snort was dismissive and mean, though Becky didn’t mind. Emma was a wet cat at the best of times, always hissing at whoever tried to wrap a warm towel around her.

"What’s good in the world? Becca, the world is shit. It’s not getting any better." She looked at her in corner, then away, shaking her head. "I don’t know why _you_ can’t see that."

Somehow, Becky found herself detached from the argument. She disagreed on a profound level, that was sure, but she wasn’t upset, rather amused by the exercise of thought. She had often thought that expressing her opinions made them more vivid and accurate. She also suspected that Emma was more likely to express stark views to offend than because they meant much to her.

"I know the world is crap," she replied evenly. "That’s why I don’t let it get to me, why I focus on what’s good about it. If I let myself think of…" She shook her head. The battle of words was little to her, but any thought of the war left her stomach in twists. "I remind myself of what’s great."

Emma’s gaze was bolder now, staring more overtly. The joint had burned up in her fingers but she did not seem to have noticed.

"You really miss that guy, huh?"

Becky sighed, feigning more exasperation than she really felt.

"Yes, I really do."

Emma sat upright, stretched her arms.

"Welp, lucky you got someone fencing off weirdos for you while he’s gone."

Becky disliked the implication that she had needed anyone to do that for her in the first place, but then who was to say how long she would have let Stan chat her up without Emma?

"I don’t remember asking for a white knight," she said, though she was trying not to smile.

"Are you kidding? That guy was a total creep, he was like, I dunno, in his twenties and douchey. I was looking out for you."

Becky didn’t know why she liked the idea of Emma looking out for her. She knew she wasn’t so fragile as to require it, but then why did everyone else seem to think so? And this was the least offensive Emma had been towards her that she could recall.

"By offering me drinks and smokes? Good job at that."

Emma laughed. The sight was so rare Becky seeped it all in, letting it warm her all up. She needed that, perhaps, much more than the rest of it.

"Well, at least I’m not hitting on you," she retorted. At once, her smile vanished and she turned resolutely away, staring at the ground in front of her. She bit her lip and muttered between her teeth. "I… I wouldn’t…"

Today would have marked Becky and Tom’s third anniversary if they had made it that long. Of course, in the morning she had left him a message on the compound’s phone line. There was no saying if he had gotten it eventually, if the routine of the military allowed for any free time to leisure in your ex-girlfriend’s voicemails. He had far bigger concerns than her feeling lonely back home, or than her at all. The freedom of the country, he had said. The rights of innocents. She wondered why she felt like a victim of it, too. She thought of last year, when he had bought her a bunch of flowers she had kept in her room all the way into the new year before they had withered. Everything withered in its own time.

"I thought you were mega popular," Emma said, unsubtly changing the subject. "Why are you even out here on your own?"

Becky was glad for the change of conversation and forced herself to smile.

"I thought you were a grunge loner," she retorted, "So why did you come talk to me?"

Emma chuckled.

"I mean, I can leave if it bothers you."

"I don’t think you’d mind bothering me." She smiled more sincerely. "Though you’re not."

Emma had this way of making a competition of the most mundane conversation. Becky was cheer captain. She did not mind competition.

"I’m more okay to being lonely this year," she still explained. She did not know why she was baring herself to Emma, who might either dismiss or taunt her for opening up. "When I take time aside, it’s… easier to fit back in after. When I understand myself more. Who I am on my own."

Her own thoughts made her cringe and she frowned.

"I’m sorry, you probably didn’t come for some melodrama philosophy from me."

"No, no, it makes sense. It makes total sense."

Emma seemed only then to realize the blunt was gone and she flicked the butt aside carelessly. This was gross and disrespectful, but then Becky made no effort to go look for it in cold, wet grass. Emma pulled out a pack of cigarettes from a pocket at her knees and shoved one between her lips. She made to offer one to Becky, but Becky snatched the one from Emma’s mouth and threw it aside. She supposed the two of them were now the worst of guests.

"Smoking isn’t cool."

Emma smirked and only pulled out another cigarette she toyed between her fingers to tease her.

"Actually, it makes me look rebellious and sexy, so."

She lit it and, leaning her elbow on the back of the bench, slowly blew out the smoke in a thin white like in the dark air. Her eyes panned Becky up and down again, insistent, and Becky who had been chilly felt very warm.

"It does," she replied softly.

The stare turned to glare and she took another deep hit of the cigarette only to blow the smoke more towards Becky’s face, who waved it away in disgust.

"You don’t need to pull your positive bullshit on me, sweetheart."

"And you need to learn to take compliments," Becky said with some mood.

"Why would you compliment me?"

Becky kissed her. It was little more than a peck that lingered, tasted like smoke and boldness, and Emma’s cheeks were flushing deep red when Becky broke it. She stuttered, lost for words, but nothing ever came and she pressed her lips tight together in some sort of a pout. Becky stole the cigarette from her fingers and, breathing it deep, blew out some smoke towards the skies. She’d have to brush her teeth before she left or her parents would smell her misdeeds. Some of them.

"Wh-What did you… what did you just do?"

Becky knew she was taking risks putting her reputation in Emma’s hands like this. It was a calculated risk. She had never struggled with math much. She tapped ash off of the tip of the cigarette and smiled, hopefully looking more confident than she felt.

"Would you like me to do it again?"

Emma crashed into her so suddenly Becky smiled into the kiss at her eagerness. The cigarette dropped onto wet grass. All distance was closed between them and this was no innocent peck at all. Emma’s hair was soft under her fingers as she cupped her face and she smelled of weed and men’s cologne. It was nice. She felt Emma wrap an arm around her waist to keep her close, push her tongue between her lips. Where was the fumbling shock now? But as they were making themselves right at home in each other’s space, there was a sudden clanging sound behind them inside the house and Emma startled and scooted apart. She was glaring at the ground again and her cheeks were so red Becky could see their blush even in the dark.

"I’ve often wanted to do that," she admitted under her breath.

Somehow, this made Becky smile. She hadn’t, not before this instant, but she didn’t regret being a bit reckless for once in her life. Maybe senior year really was a time to reinvent herself. She glanced back at the house − nothing, no one looking for them − and sat close again, wordlessly offering herself to Emma. She bit back a giggle when Emma pulled her to her lap and when she was certain they were hidden from view from the rest of the party, she snaked her arms around Emma’s shoulders to give herself whole to the kiss. Her heart was pounding with thrill, making out like their lives depended on it, filled with uncertain determination.

Emma was bold, bolder than Tom had ever been, but there was some insecurity to her too that wasn’t like anything he possessed. Higher highs, lower lows. Her lips were softer, for sure, perhaps making up for how edgy she was otherwise. Her hands slid down to Becky’s butt and held her there − Becky groaned to encourage it, which only gave more hunger and rush to a kiss that had lacked neither. Tentatively, she pried open the buckles of Emma’s pirate jacket, who was wearing just a tank top underneath. She wondered if perhaps she would be too chilly so, but Emma seized her wrist to move her hand to the round of her breast and there was nothing but heat under her palm. She felt a frantic heartbeat right at her fingertips and the kiss broke for a brief moment as they breathed heavy and took it all in. Emma’s forehead against hers, Becky who had always thought she knew what she wanted now knew it better than ever, even though she had never wanted it before.

"Promise you won’t tell anyone about this," Emma asked with a hint of desperation.

Becky leaned up to look into her eyes. She had such soft skin, burning red and hot.

"Promise me _you_ won’t."

The exact nature of ’this’, neither of them was willing to say, but they kissed again. And again and again and Becky felt very comfortable despite everything even on a lonely, chilly Halloween night. Emma’s body was nice and warm under her and she was an excellent kisser, a passionate one. She wondered if Emma was feeling as lightheaded as she was from the booze and the smoke, but even cloudy as her thoughts were, the one thought pushed through to keep herself locked in these arms.

"Hey, Rebecca."

"Mmh?"

Emma’s fingers tapped against Becky’s butt in some nervous drum, which was oddly comical. Or perhaps she was just a little tipsy and everything was funny to her, but her senses felt as sharp as ever.

"You wanna like… find a bed or something?" Emma asked, toying the line between charming and awkward. "An empty one. Behind some door we can lock."

Her overconfident stumbling was adorable and tempting. Despite it, Becky felt a twist of guilt in her guts at the thought of Tom out at war, at this day marking the three years of their first kiss while she fucked another. But then, they had broken up, hadn’t they? She remembered all too clearly the tearful moment he had told her he wanted her life to go on while she was gone, for her not to hold herself back for him. She had promised him she would wait for him whether he wanted her to or not. She didn’t know whether she still would. Perhaps just the once…

"Yes."

She scrambled off of Emma’s lap, momentarily feeling all cold again without the embrace. She wanted to laugh at the distance Emma kept between them as they walked back to the party inside at its fullest. The people were drunk enough to be having the most fun, but not quite yet that they did not notice them heading up the staircase and Emma grabbed Becky’s hand and patted her back gently. The points of contact were so sensitive they might have burned her through the thin, tight scrubs.

"Becca’s had too much to drink, she feels like crap, she’s just gonna lie down on a bed," she told the closest group of people who had looked at them curiously. "I’ll watch over her, you guys, don’t worry."

Becky went along with the unflattering lie and nodded sheepishly, and the party forgot about them as they climbed upstairs and tried to pace themselves down. As soon as the door of some bedroom closed and locked behind them, though, they were on each other again and Becky grinned into the kiss. She found the alibi as hilarious as it was outrageous.

"You couldn’t have found a way to sneak up here without making crap up and embarrassing me."

Emma was smirking so seductively and pushed her back towards the closest bed. The parents’ bedroom. This was obscenely intrusive and rude, and yet she couldn’t have stopped if she had tried.

"Well," Emma said and lied her down on the bed. "I don’t think I lied that much. You’re not so drunk, but I’ll still watch over you here."

Becky smiled up at her. Standing, she was a tad taller than Emma but under her on the bed, this made no difference at all. She pushed the tricorn hat off her head, pried the jacket well open again.

"I don’t feel drunk at all," she replied.

They kissed. Becky wondered if Emma was still feeling as nervous or if it was just her, but either way the pace seemed to have slowed down to better allow the moment to fully sink in. Her legs parted for Emma’s to slide in between and her thigh pressed down, perhaps not accidentally. Becky moaned and wondered if Emma had done this before. She wondered if _she_ had done this before, if the many, many times with Tom counted in the same category altogether. The heat and the excitement she felt were the same, for sure, though this lacked the familiarity.

"You okay?" Emma asked, her lips trailing down Becky’s neck.

Becky gave a short nod and closed her eyes. Her fingers combed through Emma’s hair. Long hair, more wavy than usual for the costume, and down for once. It was nice. She hoped Emma would not leave a mark on her skin, or she would get hell at home and never see another party all year.

"Yeah," she said. "Just peachy."

"Good. Cool."

Emma tugged at her top and their fingers worked together to open up the buttons. Nimble fingers, quick and precise. Emma was not losing any time and she kissed Becky’s breasts over the bra uncovered with a contented sigh.

"You can take it off," Becky said, smiling.

She sat up to allow it and the scrubs fell to the ground as she pulled them all the way off. Emma unhooked the bra and the air of the bedroom had never seemed hotter as she took in the sight of her topless. She bit her lip and pushed Becky back down, but the plastic sword of her costume poked at Becky’s thigh this time and she groaned in sudden pain.

"Ugh, your sword is hurting me."

Emma unbuckled the scabbard from her hips with quite more flair than needed when she shoved it aside. She had a touch of dramatic to her, probably a remainder of the theater class she had left after merely one production.

"That what you told _him_?"

Becky snorted to hide how little she wanted to think about Tom in this instant, how these two parts of her story ought to be kept strictly separate.

"Though you’re a sexy nurse, you can take anything and stitch yourself back up."

"I don’t think that’s how human anatom… Oh shit."

Her palm pressing down between Becky’s legs over her thin scrubs, Emma was grinning victoriously at the effect produced and Becky spread her thighs to better feel her. She was so exposed already, yet nothing was enough. Tonight, she wanted to give herself whole, or at least the part of herself that was still for the taking. Emma’s mouth found her breasts, her nipples, and Becky was a little more taken.

"I’ll eat you out," Emma said. "Then if you want, you do me."

She didn’t know why the bluntness wasn’t a turnoff, she who was all courtesies, but Emma’s desires were so clear cut they made the prospect perfectly tangible and, yes, enticing. She nodded and Emma smiled around her nipple, satisfied. She tugged down the pants barring her way and Becky had to lift her hips to help the task, both of them just as eager to get them all the way off. Emma’s fingers stopped at her belly and traced from between her breasts down to the line of Becky’s underwear.

"You’re kind of ripped."

Becky flexed her abs to flaunt all the hours of practice and was rewarded by a kiss against her skin, kisses trailing a very sure path down.

"Join the cheerleaders and you’ll pack as much as me," she teased.

"I’d rather fucking die," Emma said and, pushing Becky’s legs up, nearly tore off the underwear in her haste to get it off. It sat there around her left calf, forgotten as she took the prize she seemed to have so ardently coveted.

Becky took in a sharp breath when Emma’s tongue was on her. Why was she startled? Why did everything feel so mysterious and forbidden, when everything spoke here of a casual encounter, something to be locked away in memories the next day? But she would never forget it, the burning look in Emma’s eyes with her mouth on her, the way her tongue and lips devoured her like she had been half starving, how her hands gripped her thighs tight to keep her well exposed and at her mercy. This was so _different_. So used to sex fueled with the deepest love, she was now running on pure lust and Emma was tasting every last morsel of it with a rare intent on the girl usually so apathetic. Becky’s hands gripped the sheets as she took everything Emma was graceful enough to bestow her.

"So how’s that, cheer captain?"

The soft, low voice was in stark contrast with the taunting words and made Becky particularly comfortable. Emma pressed up her tongue inside of her and she bit back a moan, her head snapping back into the pillow. She could never watch the party host’s parents in the eyes if she ever met them again, but how worth it the trashy burst of disobeying guest rules. Emma reached up to fondle a breast, teasing the nipple under her thumb.

"Really good," she replied truthfully. "Keep going."

She could not have compared Emma to Tom if she’d tried, so different their demeanor in every way, and so she did not, choosing instead to focus solely on her present partner. Emma was bolder with the encouragement and acutely applied to please. Having prompted the right reaction in Becky, her tongue was brushing and flicking against her clit with more dedication than Becky had ever seen her devote to anything before. She was keen on doing it exactly right, on pushing Becky to the edge of pleasure as fast as she possibly could. Becky wondered if this was another sort of competition, though there was no loser in it now.

"That feels nice," she muttered. Emma sucked on her a little, winked to show she had heard her. Becky realized they had not stopped looking into each other’s eyes. She didn’t mind that, not one bit. Emma had lovely eyes, warm and soft when she wanted to. Often, she did not, but Becky was not the only one exposing herself tonight. "Really, _really_ nice."

There was no time to catch her breath, to collect herself. Emma gave always more of the perfect same and would not allow Becky to pace it down. Such soft, soft lips toyed her so well and Becky knew that she was drenched, that she was right on the edge and very soon… She could have seen fireworks in Emma’s eyes when she came under her attentions, her hips pushing up into her mouth despite herself, how tense her body all at once. She was feeling more than a little dazed herself but her back had barely hit the bed again that Emma was sitting up and on top of her once more to kiss her. Her thigh pressed between again and the absurd worry came to mind that she would make a wet patch against the fabric of Emma’s pirate breeches, that others would draw conclusions, but Emma kissed her so longingly the thought was forgotten.

"Thank you," she said and cringed at her own words.

Emma usually so full of bite and mischief only smirked in reply and, though her tongue darted very furtively to lick her lips, Becky was certain this was intentional, that Emma did not dare to admit she had enjoyed this as much as Becky had. Whether she spoke it out or not, Becky knew. There was no mistaking it and she rolled the two of them around so that she could repay it as she pleased.

"Becky…"

She was afraid, Becky realized as she tugged Emma’s pants and underwear down to her knees. Becky loved to excel at anything and, deep in unknown territory, she loathed to think herself clumsy and inexperienced. She only had to take one look at Emma’s flushed face to know that this was not to be an issue between them, but still her nerves clung to every motion as she pulled off Emma’s tank top as well. No bra underneath, and since when did she find the sight of breasts so enticing, round and small and so tasty under her lips as she pressed her mouth to them? Emma sighed with contentment, laid back more comfortably. And if Emma could be so casual about this encounter, then why couldn’t Becky?

"Can I touch you?" She asked − her voice was low and shaking a little.

Emma parted her legs for a reply and her smile was the loveliest of sights, an adorable lazy nod. Emboldened, Becky’s fingers traced down her stomach, which was smooth and soft under her fingertips, and with just a touch of her fingers, she barged open the door to a new reality, a new Becky.

" _Fuck_ ," she muttered, feeling Emma so warm and wet at her knuckles.

Emma pulled her close to kiss her again, an arm around her shoulders. This was less hurried than before. Becky needed more time than that, needed to be certain of what she was doing, that it was right for both of them. She buried her face in Emma’s neck who turned her face to the side to better allow it, to demand kisses against her throat, her shoulder. When Becky pushed a finger inside, she felt like she now knew Emma in a way that could never be undone. That no matter what would come to be, they would have always shared this moment. It didn’t feel like a random hookup born strictly out of horniness, but intentional, every instant building up to this touch between Emma’s leg, the delicious heat. She pressed up another finger and loved the sensation, sliding them in and out, feeling around in a wetness all of her creation. Emma’s breast tempted her and she leaned to kiss around the nipple, took it in her mouth. She heard Emma’s breath hitch.

"Are you nervous?" Becky asked, not willing to admit that she was.

Emma squirmed, which had the effect of finding a better angle and Becky wondered if this had been the intent, too.

"A little. Don’t psychoanalyze me, just fuck me."

A thumb at her clit, she stroked it at first too boldly and Emma’s hips backed from the touch a little, then more gently, a moan for a reward.

"I’ve never fucked anyone at all."

Emma huffed out in mockery or disbelief.

"Tommy and I made love," Becky explained, which prompted a dismissive snort.

"What the fuck are you talking about, didn’t you get caught blowing him under the bleachers by that football guy that one time?"

She was jealous, Becky realized. She didn’t know why she liked that.

"Yes," she said. "With _love_."

She kissed Emma to tame her back into better spirits and this was so special too, the way their naked bodies were so entwined together, how the kisses somehow matched the press of her fingers inside, how complete sense it all made.

"Is this alright?" She asked and felt her cheeks warm up at the embarrassment of having to ask. "Do you like it? Show me how you like."

Emma combed through her hair, looking up at her with such awe Becky wondered if she would have to repeat herself for fear she hadn’t heard, but then Emma gently seized her wrist to adjust the touch ever so slightly. Becky attempted it again with the new, better angle and Emma nodded and moaned in satisfaction.

"Sometimes," Emma admitted, "I think about you like this."

She was subtly more disheveled with every time Becky’s fingers pushed inside of her and groaned unabashed when Becky added a third. It was a give and take, applying herself to please Emma but what a sweet payback to bask in the sight, to look at her red face and her eyes veiled with pleasure.

"Hopefully, this gives you more fuel for thought, then."

Emma clutched her very tight when she came, whimpering in their kisses all the good of Becky’s ministrations. It was incredible, Becky thought, that a sensation she had known so many times in herself was all anew when she was but a mere observer, when it pulsed fast and tight around her fingers, then looser with every instant. The kiss broke and the magic with it, though Becky thought that perhaps it lingered a little in her heart. Perhaps it would always live there.

Emma laid on the bed long after the climax had ran its course and stared at the ceiling blankly while Becky got dressed again. She checked the time on her flip phone and found two texts by her mother reminding her of the time agreed to pick her up. Ten minutes left.

"Fuck," Emma eventually said.

Becky glanced at her. She was making a mental list of everything she had to do in the short time left here. Put some clothes on to leave this room was certainly number one. Take off her makeup, change back into her school clothes, brush her teeth, thank the host for inviting her. Likely no time for anything more, not even goodbyes to the rest of her friends. But her not-quite-friend now sitting up and looking at her, wordlessly begging for an acknowledgment…

"Very eloquent," Becky replied with a smile in corner. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Emma snorted. The exchange was setting her back into motion and one garment at a time, the brat was pirate again.

"Oh, fuck off, Rebecca, I don’t think you expected the night to go this way either."

She was dressed again and scanned the room to check she had not forgotten anything. Nothing but her manners as she rummaged her brain for something to say.

"I didn’t," she admitted. "Though I don’t mind that it did."

Emma paused, halfway through pulling her jacket back on and it flopped stiffly over just one shoulder. She bit her lip and looked away.

"I don’t mind it either."

Tentatively, Becky crossed the few feet between them to press a kiss against her cheek on her way out.

"Goodnight, Emma."

Her father and mother were both in the car to pick her up, frowning with disdain at the state of the house. It was large and luxurious and by any measure a better place to be at than at home, but it was booming with loud music and she was certain they were half convinced to barge inside and call the cops on it. Nevertheless, she had cleaned herself up back to the proper Becky, their darling obedient daughter, and nothing more was said about the party as they left with one last glare. They barely asked about it, which was all Becky could have hoped for, as she was in no hurry to share about her endeavors of the short night. They were swirling in her own mind anyways for her own pondering.

There was no voicemail for her at home, of course. There was no text either. This did not bother her. Staring at her ceiling all alone in her room, Becky smiled as she realized she didn’t feel that lonely after all tonight.


End file.
